


Sleepwalking

by SMJB



Category: Original Work
Genre: Creepypasta, Gen, Horror, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21834829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMJB/pseuds/SMJB
Summary: Awaking in a body that's already moving is a weird, horrifying, indescribable sensation. I was already at my bedroom door before I realized I wasn't making my body do this; I began frantically trying to make it do things, but to no apparent effect. I remember sticking my head out and looking up and down the hallway, as though whoever was controlling my body was unfamiliar with my house, and then heading stealthily for the stairs.The fear I was feeling was indescribable. You really can't imagine what it's like, being a prisoner in your own body. To watch itdo thingswithout any control over what it does. It's like sleep paralysis only so, so much worse.And yet even that paled in comparison to theabsolute blind panicI felt when it started playing with our kitchen knives--
Kudos: 3





	Sleepwalking

**Author's Note:**

> Ported from [r/nosleep](https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/8uyx9r/sleepwalking/).

Awaking in a body that's already moving is a weird, horrifying, indescribable sensation. I was already at my bedroom door before I realized I wasn't making my body do this; I began frantically trying to make it do things, but to no apparent effect. I remember sticking my head out and looking up and down the hallway, as though whoever was controlling my body was unfamiliar with my house, and then heading stealthily for the stairs.

The fear I was feeling was indescribable. You really can't imagine what it's like, being a prisoner in your own body. To watch it _do things_ without any control over what it does. It's like sleep paralysis only so, so much worse.

And yet even that paled in comparison to the _absolute blind panic_ I felt when it started playing with our kitchen knives--you know, the ones you keep in a wood block on the counter? It started pulling them out and seemed to be examining them. I was actually _relieved_ when, apparently finding its favorite, it left the house out the back door instead of going back up stairs to visit my sleeping parents or sister.

“I” went into our neighbor's yard, into his tool shed, and grabbed a shovel. Apparently whatever was controlling me was far more familiar with the layout of my neighbor's house than mine, for it barely needed to look to locate the shovel and once inside made a bee line for the basement. It had a dirt floor, I saw, and then my body started to dig.

I...it...we?...it wasn't alone; other kids from the neighborhood began to filter in, the first couple also had digging tools from the tool shed, and the rest just sort of stood and watched.

My hole was only two feet deep when “I” handed the shovel off to another kid and bent down to dig with my hands. I felt...something...buried beneath the last few inches of earth, but couldn't register what it was before my body pulled a freaking skull out of the ground, holding it with a finger in each eye socket like it was a goddamn bowling ball.

I realize that's something of a funny image, but just imagine being the person whose body is doing it of its own volition. Imagine having your hand forcibly inserted into human remains by a force you cannot fight or even plead with. Think of how utterly divorced from the human experience you'd have to be to think _that_ was the proper and logical way to hold a human skull. Imagine having all these thoughts swirling inside your head at the same time and being unable to scream.

“Are we ready?” a girl asked.

My body nodded, and I saw the others nodding.

“Let's do this.” And she led us in a procession, single-file, up the stairs and another flight of stairs and into the master bedroom, where my neighbor slept. “I” was the last one through, and flipped the light switch.

He awoke with a start, and looked at me blarilly; uncertainly, he said my name.

“---------- isn't here right now,” my body said.

“What do you--?” he saw the skull it was holding, now more respectfully cradled in both hands. “--Oh.” Just that: Oh. Like, on some level, he was expecting this.

“We're here to make you pay for your crimes,” the girl said. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“Well, you know--” he bum rushed her, but they were on him instantly, my body and the others, stabbing.

After that, they cleaned up. I think I was in shock by that point; at least, I had emotionally burned out. I mean, it's not really sustainable to be on the edge of terror for that long, eventually your adrenal system will crash--which raises questions about how the spirit was able to not notice I was still in there, come to think about it; I mean, we were sharing an adrenal system, weren't we? I have _so_ many questions. Well, whatever the case, the body and skulls were buried, our night clothing laundered and weapons washed, and all signs of struggle carefully cleaned up. Then my body went home, put the knife back where it found it, and went to bed.

I don't know how I was able to sleep after that. The next day I saw one of the other kids from that night complaining that they were extremely tired and didn't know why; they seemed otherwise fine. A couple of days later my neighbor was declared missing when people realized they hadn't seen him in a couple days. The next time I saw my Mom using _that_ knife, I made an excuse to skip dinner and later threw the knife away. I never told anyone because, I mean, if they do find the body, I'd be kind of admitting to murder. That's why I haven't revealed any personal details here, either.

The obvious implication here is that whatever possessed me and the other kids that night were the spirits of my neighbor's victims, but that doesn't really sit right with me. They were too...professional about it, and too cavalier about “their” remains. Too certain we wouldn't remember, and as far as I'm aware I'm the only one that does remember. And he seemed to know what was happening.

I have so many questions about that night, questions that'll never be answered. I've taken to recording myself sleep, but I don't know what I'll do if I ever access it and see myself doing stuff.


End file.
